All Good
by bracken
Summary: Doyle comes back, or rather, Doyle is given back. C/D hints


TITLE: All Good  
  
AUTHOR: Bracken  
  
E -MAIL: brackenisadore@hotmail.com  
  
RATING: pg  
  
PAIRING: None, but hints at the possibility of a c/d  
  
DISTRIBUTION: Open to all, but write to say where it's going, that's all.  
  
DISCLAIMER: After intensive therapy I now understand that Doyle and the rest of the gang belong to His   
  
Lordship Joss and not me.   
  
SPOILERS: After Cordelia has her "sychotic episode" and hears the voices of the anguished.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: My first c/d, maybe I'll do a sequal . . .  
  
FEEDBACK: Please? It gives me major happies.  
  
DEDICATION: For Mandy. Who, in her unswerving love of all things Irish, is quite an inspiration. And she actually thinks I ignore her, really!  
  
  
***********************************************************************************  
  
All Good  
  
by  
  
Bracken  
  
The crumbling yellow parchment whispered as it was turned over. Long, perfectly tapered, obviously English fingers skimmed down the complicated, ancient glyphs. Wesley scribbled his translation furiously on the paper beside him. "I have it!" he exclaimed loudly, whipping the paper up above his head with a flourish. Angel quirked a bored eyebrow. Cordelia yawned. "Sure you have it Wes," she said patronisingly. "Like that first time you 'got' the exact same passage and swore that a gaint fish was going to rise out of the bay singing."  
  
"Or the next time you swore that every radio wave on earth was a deamon spirit and made us all wear ear-plugs." pointed out Angel.  
  
Cordelia picked up where he left off, "And then there was the one other time when yo-"  
  
Wesley groaned, "Please, don't ever bring that episode up again. Just listen to me and you judge whether this sounds like the real prophesy or not, it even rhymes in three dialects, including English." he looked pleadingly from one to the other.  
  
Angel relented with a sigh. "Fine Wesley, what did you find?" Cordelia went back to her Cosmo as Wesley began to read his translation:  
  
The sun shall retreat in the Avenger's name,  
  
And darkness shall rule the sky.  
  
A still of death there shall remain,  
  
And the ocean shall calm it's tide.  
  
Deep in the labyrinth womb of earth,  
  
The Powers That Be shall stir.  
  
And He that was borne of premonitionary birth,  
  
To his rightful place return.  
  
By the Forces of Goodness, shall it be so,  
  
He that once was shall rise.  
  
And the love that was lost shall be regained,  
  
In the original Seer's eyes.  
  
"Doyle." whispered Cordelia. Angel nodded gravely, and in the repressed excitement of the room, silence reigned supreme.  
  
* * *  
  
  
It was a few hours later and the crew of the Dark Avenger were scattered around the outer office, trying to decipher the prophesy exactly. "Well, the timing leaves it at the day after tomorrow." said Wesley. "Yes," said Angel, "A convenient eclipse. But that doesn't help us with the location."  
  
"Umm. . . " began Cordelia hesitantly, "The still of death . . . could they be talking about The Lone Point?"   
  
"Where?" both guys looked confused.  
  
"It's this quiet cliff where hundreds of people jump every year." she explained. "What were you doing there?" Angel inquired. There was an uneasy pause, "Hey!" said Queen C assertively, "I like taking walks there, it's very picturesque, okay! Especially after big, life-threatening apoccalypse scares, you're not the only one allowed to brood you know." Cordy scowled, as though daring either of them to challenge her.  
  
"Errm, right." said Weslay finally, "During the eclipse we go armed to The Lone Point?" The others readily agreed, the idea of a definate plan was comforting. Still, they had been through too much hurt to actually believe that Doyle would be returned to them. But then again,"Hope springs eternal... "  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
It had been two days frought with emotions they had just managed to bury shallowly under the surface. Wesley aprehensively wondering whether he'd be replaced if Doyle returned, lose his job, home and new family. Angel spent nights with his guilt, how could he look the Irishman in the eye after failing to protect him? Cordelia just wanted him back so badly it hurt.   
  
And now they were standing in a sheltered bay, overlooked by the looming figure of The Lone Point cliff. The sky darkened ominously and they stood watching as the waves receded in an extreme low-tide. "And the ocean shall calm it's tide." Cordelia whispered turmultuously, making another connection to the ancient text. Wesley's brow furrowed as he tried to do the same with the next line of the prophecy, "Deep in the labyrinth womb of earth?" he looked around him confusedly. Angel pointed distantly to a shadowy overhang above the foot of the cliff. "There." he said grimly, and they all made their way to a snaking tunnel of caves usually concealed by the pounding waves.   
  
  
  
* * *   
  
  
They had found a central cavern amoungst the winding tunnels. Wesley was making a protection circle, Angel was chanting in Latin, his voice causing low reverberations that went radiating throughout the cave. The very air crackled with a heavy anticipation and, outside in the sky, there ruled a complete absence of light.   
  
The three were sitting in the circle when the noises began. As though in an invisible flood, the frantic whispering of a million inhuman voices came rushing down the tunnels toward them. It reminded Angel of the Hell he had been in, it reminded Cordelia of the Hell that had taken over her mind. To Wesley, the desperate clutching voices seemed ready to claim them all. He shuddered. Suddenly: "BACK EVIL." resounded thoughout the cave. The whispers ended immediately. The walls echoed with the sound of the powerful voice. The voice (voices?) continued, though no visible source of it could be seen. "WE ARE THE POWERS THAT BE. WE RULE FOR THE GREATER GOOD OF THE INNOCENTS, AND YOU ARE OUR WARRIORS. YOU FIGHT FOR OUR CAUSE." The dark cavern was slowly filling with a thick mist that seemed to descend upon then from mid-air, the message went on, "AND FOR YOUR GOOD, HIS GOOD, AND THE GREATER GOOD OF ALL, WE RESTORE THE SEER TO YOU. MAY YOU KEEP HIM AND LOVE HIM AS IT SHOULD BE. YOU ARE AS ONE FORCE NOW. YOU ARE BONDED." The voice faded out and the mist rapidly cleared. And there, on the boundary of their protective circle, lay Doyle: half-man, half-deamon, all Good.  
  
The End  
  
14/11/2000  



End file.
